The Horsemaster's Daughter
by Lilywn
Summary: Aldwen is the niece of Rohan's most prominent horse seller and breeder. She has been raised by him since the age of nine when she lost her parents. Following in her father's footsteps, Aldwen dutifully works for her uncle's enterprise. A trip to Edoras throws Aldwen into the world of royalty, battle, and a life she did not expect. T for language, violence, adult themes. Eomer/OC
1. Aldwen

**Hello everyone! I'm new to writing FanFic but had a lot in my brain and wanted to get it down on the figurative paper! I'm trying to follow to timeline to of LOTR, but I may fudge it in a few places for the sake of my sanity. Let me know what you think, constructive comments always welcome!**

Aldwen woke early as she always did, there was always much to do around the stables and not enough hours in the day it seemed. It was brisk that morning, the chill of cool spring mornings still hung in the air as she rose from her bed. She could still feel the coldness of the stone floor through the thick furs that lined the floor of her bedroom. Her uncle had already been up before her, as she found a pitcher of hot water with a basin on her night table. After washing she pulled on her wool leggings and a worn black tunic, tightening down a well-used leather belt around her waist. She frowned as the belt sagged too low over her hips. Removing the belt, she notched another two holes and cinched the belt back on; this time happy with the result. As she pulled on her leather boots she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the used water basin. Her shoulder length, sun-streaked hair was wild from sleep despite the fact that she kept it shorter then any women she had known. She always thought it was easier to manage this way as she hastily pulled her fingers through her hair. Though naturally fair, her face and hands were deeply tanned and spattered with freckles from years of working in the sun. Her green eyes were young with delicate laugh lines in the corners when she smiled, though lately dark circles plagued them. Shrugging, she left her room to begin the days' work.

Her uncle Alleth's large property was located north of Edoras across the great Entwash in Broadacres. Here the land was fertile and the green grass grew tall enough to reach a mounted riders' knees in some places. Her uncle was the primary merchant and breeder of war horses in all of Rohan. His horses were sought out by many; buyers would often travel great distances to parlay with her uncle. It was not unusual for him to host noted royalty in his modest home. Alleth took Aldwen in when she was just 8-years old. Her father, Alhelm, worked closely with his brother and lived in a small dwelling on his property; the two were close. Her father had little to do with business, he always preferred working directly with their horses. His talent was undeniable, even the most spirited of horses would eventually yield under his guiding hand. One morning, Alhelm was working with an unbroken stallion when he was kicked in the head; he died three days later. Overcome with grief, Aldwen's mother awoke one morning shortly after her husband's death, rode across the Kingstead plains, and walked into the Entwash disappearing under the roiling current. Her riderless horse wandering back to their home some days later.

Twenty years later Aldwen was upholding her father's traditions, with perhaps even more skill than even he had. Her uncle would often watch her work in the small corrals with his great war steeds; her small frame almost completely overtaken by such large creatures. It seemed as if they would almost dance together, his stallions trying to lead at first but ever so slowly giving up the lead to his niece. When she sat upon their backs, her riding was so quiet he could hardly see her commands but would have her mounts' obey her every request. Aldwen dearly loved what she did, she felt that it would have made her father proud of her. She devoted herself to her craft and her horses so dearly Alhelm always had to remind his niece also enjoy the company of other people. He worried about her quietness and reclusiveness ever since her parent's death and how it would affect her future. Though men had approached Alleth to seek Aldwen's hand he never accepted; suspicious of their motivations. He never pressed his niece to seek a husband for he knew that if that time ever came it would be Aldwen herself who would tell him.

Grabbing her long black coat, Aldwen stepped outside just as the sun was rising over the eastern peaks of Emyn Muil. It was almost foaling season and she went out to find her uncle who would be in the stables tending to the mares. It was warmer in the stables and the sweet smell of fresh hay coated with morning dew hung in the air. She found him beside one of her favorite mares, Friseal, affectionately stroking her neck; she was heavy with her foal and restless.

"Good morning uncle," she greeted him with a small smile giving Friseal a pat on her velvet nose and the rest of her apple.

"Still morning? I thought it afternoon by the hour you rose this morning," he joked as he kissed the side of her cheek.

Aldwen laughed softly, she had never been an early riser. She would easily stay up all night and enjoy the stillness of the stars as they faded into dawn, but she could never convince her body to wake before the sun. She walked over to her own mare, Maon, who eyed Aldwen harshly after giving Friseal her apple.

"Don't worry my friend, I could never do that to you," she said producing another small apple which she shared with her horse. Maon was a beautiful Bay Overo Paint with a black and white mane, and an irregular blaze contoured around her right eye coloring it a vivid blue. At fifteen hands, she was average height for her breed but Aldwen prized her for her speed, loyalty, and bravery; Maon was solid as a rock under saddle. She was reluctant to accept any other rider other than Aldwen. Alleth gifted Maon as a foal to his niece when she was twenty-three years of age; he had never seen anyone bond with an animal so quickly. While he greatly desired to breed Maon with one of his stallions, he never would unless Aldwen approached him about it.

"I have a favor to ask of you Aldwen," Alleth started. "King Théoden wants to see Artair to purchase for one of his Guardsman who lost his horse in battle. With many of our mares so close to foaling, I am needed here, I would like you to bring Artair to him in my stead."

"Artair? He's not ready to be sold, I still have difficulties with him" Aldwen replied. Just the other day she was thrown from his tall back when he spooked while she shot an arrow at a target. "And why do you have to stay? I'm perfectly capable of tending to the mares while you are away," she continued defensively.

Alleth knew this and was not intending to insult his niece. He also knew that Théoden had just returned from Helm's Deep and was planning on having a great feast in honor of his victorious dead. Alleth wanted Aldwen to go sn enjoy herself, she wasn't a young maiden anymore and dreaded the thought of her ending up alone. Stifling an impish green Alleth straightened to his full height in an attempt to be stern.

"I have already written to the King and accepted his offer, his Guardsman is more than a capable ride and knows what he is getting into with Artair. Théoden will expect you three nights hence. " Alleth turned and strode quickly from the stables before Aldwen could say anything further on the matter.

Aldwen was left alone to steep in her own thoughts. Why was her uncle making her ride to Edoras? This Guardsman of his could just come to their home if they wanted one of their horses, she wasn't at their beck and call. Why couldn't her uncle simply go! It was a two days journey and the road was not as safe as it has once been. Aldwen was annoyed at how illogical this all sounded when Maon nudged her with her soft muzzle; she could always tell when Aldwen was bothered. Aldwen let out a long sigh, she was being difficult. She knew she should be thankful that her uncle trusted her enough to deliver one of his finest horses to the King. She also realized she was being selfish in wondering why their rider couldn't come to meet them; they had just fought in a difficult battle. Turning to leave the stables, she went to catch up with her uncle and apologize for being difficult. While she wasn't all together looking forward to it, it had been a while since she had left the property. Maybe this trip would shake the sadness that had been creeping into her features as of late.

Aldwen caught up to her uncle, throwing an arm up to his shoulders to express her thanks.


	2. Girl in the Stable

**Thanks for your comments and reviews everyone, it is greatly appreciated. Just wanted to restate that this story is taking place just after the battle of Helm's Deep. I'm taking creative liberties with distances, locations, and timelines but will try and stay as true to the storyline as possible. Feel free to comment and review, I love hearing new ideas.**

The next morning, Aldwen begrudgingly rose earlier than she normally would to ready herself for the two days of travel that would follow on her way to Edoras. It was still dark out when she warmed a kettle of water so she could wash her face. She pulled out her normal leggings, tunic, and boots as well as a light mail shirt she liked to travel with. Her leather belt now also held a modest blade that belonged to her father. She paused before sheathing the blade, breathing out a heavy sigh. Her father and mother weighed heavily on her mind as of late. She was of the age when her mother must have neared the end of her pregnancy with her; the two blissfully married. It made Aldwen think deeply about what worth that her life held.

Would she ever have a family of her own?

Is that even what she really wanted?

Why had her mother left her alone in this world, had she given any thought to her child?

Aldwen shook her head at this last question to clear her thoughts. She never let her mind wander too far when thinking about her mother. She found that if she began thinking about such things too deeply, the dark feeling of resentment would rear its wicked head. So in keeping with what Aldwen always did when her thoughts strayed towards unpleasant things, she buried them in the deep, dark places of her heart.

Sheathing the blade, Aldwen finished packing her last few belongings into her open saddle bags and headed out to the stables to prepare Artair. He was a fine horse and it saddened Aldwen to be parted with him. She had helped foal him and marveled at his features even as a young colt; she hoped his new master would handle the Blue Roan well. His breaking was difficult, and Aldwen still had difficulties with his spirited nature. He was young, though, and knew he was destined to make a fine war horse in the capable hands of the Rohirrim. Artair could sense the change in the air around him as Aldwen calmly brushed him and picked his hooves. She spoke softly to him as she pulled her saddle blanket up towards his withers. Artair promptly reached back and pulled the blanket off his back in an obvious protest of the early morning hour.

"This is not my doing, I promise my friend," Aldwen laughed as she pulled the blanket back up. "You know I would still be beneath my sleeping furs if I could."

Artair's protest diminished as Aldwen cinched the girth of her saddle; it looked comically small on the back of this great horse. Leading Artair from his paddock, she headed back down to the house to bid her uncle farewell before she departed, the sun was just beginning to crest over the mountains in the east. Her uncle was waiting for her in the doorway wearing a small smirk on his face.

"A fine woman you have become, Aldwen. For never being a father, I must say, I would have been good at it" he mused.

"Careful uncle, lest your shoulder get sore from patting your own back." Aldwen joked as she walked up to him. Placing a kiss on the side of his check she smiled, " I have always thought of you much like a father. Thank you for affording me such opportunities in this life."

Alleth beamed with pride. "Get on the road and be mindful with that horse of ours. Write when you arrive and I will make sure a boy sends a horse for you for your journey home." He handed her a long traveling coat, a small sack of food, and her bow with a small quiver.

"You think this necessary?" Aldwen asked. Her uncle had taught her the skills she needed to defend herself, but was hesitant to call herself a warrior.

"You know as well as I do that times have grown dark. I doubt it will be needed on the road to Edoras, but please, for my sake of mind carry it with you." Alleth pleaded.

Aldwen donned her coat and shouldered her bow. With a final parting hug, she swung herself up onto Artair's back and turned him south. She was in no rush to get to Edoras, but her mount was anxious under her. She let him have his head and he lunged forward into an easy gallop. It had been a long time since Aldwen had allowed herself the luxury of galloping carefree through the grasses of Broadacres. She let her head fall back to greet the morning sun with a wide smile on her face. She couldn't contain the yelp of excitement that burst forth from her lungs as she encouraged Artair onward.

Alleth watched his niece in a full gallop on the back on the Roan until she was a mere speck in the distance. He smiled broadly as he heard the normally reserve Aldwen whoop with happiness. It had been a long while since he saw her as happy as she was thing morning; something for which he was always grateful to see. He turned back into his small house to put a pot of water on for breakfast, humming a quite tune while he prepared for the day.

The road to Edoras had more travelers that Aldwen thought it would, daily life seemed to be bustling despite the fact that bands of Orcs and Wild Men had been terrorizing the Westfold. Women were carrying baskets of produce, spices, and salves to the local market. Merchants had their carts loaded with goods to be sold. Aldwen traveled all through the day stopping shortly before the sun dipped below the horizon. She made camp near a small stream close to the town of Kingstead; she could see far into the distance for any threats during the night and was protected enough from the wind that always seemed to be blowing in Rohan. Not daring to make a fire, least she be seen, Aldwen ate a simple dinner of bread and dried fruit and turned in for the night.

The next morning Aldwen woke to the sun already above the eastern mountains. Though she was up later than she had planned, she still wanted to bathe in the nearby stream. Waking up to the sun and jumping into ice cold water had always been a favorite treat of hers. After a quick look around the land, Aldwen shed all her clothes and dove into the frigid waters. She hardly had time to scrub at her hair before the cold was too much for her. Jumping out of the stream she laid on a nearby rock to dry in the sun. She was still covered in goose-bumps when she pulled her clothes back on, happy to have gotten rid of the morning fog in her head. Artair stood unamused by her morning antics and was restless to get back on the road. Aldwen quickly gathered her belongings back into her saddle bags and readied her horse.

"I am going to miss you," Aldwen said as she stroked the great Roan's neck.

She gracefully jumped into her saddle and began the final leg of their journey to Edoras. Around mid-day Aldwen came to the Entwash, letting her know that the great valley that held Edoras was near. She paused for a moment, looking at the boiling current of the river and shuddered. She had come here before but could never bring herself to look at into its mighty waters. She forced herself to confront her fear this time and could do nothing against the onslaught of images of her mother walking into this river that appeared in her head.

"Why?" Aldwen was surprised at the sound of her own voice. She didn't think she had spoken out loud. Artair shifted under her, bringing Aldwen back from her memories. She nudged him forward, thankful for the distraction. It was not the time to dwell on such things.

Not long after, Edoras came into view. She could see the roof of the Golden Hall glimmering in the late afternoon sunshine. She took a moment here to gather herself; she looked gruff from her days of travel despite a swim in the morning. She was suddenly self-conscious of her appearance; her cloth was poor, boots dirty, and hair wild from the wind. Without being able to do anything about it, she shrugged and directed Artair towards the gates of the city. For a moment, Artair bucked wildly and displayed his annoyance at being brought back to a barn; rare for a horse. Aldwen reined the horse in, looking quickly around in embarrassment as the guards at the gate looked at her in amusement.

"I'm here to deliver this horse to King Théoden at the request of my uncle," Aldwen said perhaps a bit too seriously. The guards simply nodded as she passed through the gates.

Aldwen wound her way up towards the Golden Hall past the city's quaint cottages. It appeared the villagers were also just making it back from the journey from Helms Deep. They paid her little heed as Aldwen passed by, immersed in their own errands. She stopped at the King's Stable and handed Artair's reins to a nearby stableboy who admired the war horse with awe.

"I'll be back shortly with King Théoden, please tend to Artair diligently" she requested.

The boy was young, but almost just as tall as Aldwen. Thanking him, she attempted to dust off her clothes before the ascended the steps to the Golden Hall. A guard with vibrant yellow hair and beard to match greeted her at the gates.

"I am Aldwen, I have been summoned to the Great Hall by King Théoden on behalf of my uncle."

"Greetings, m'lady. I trust you to be a friend of our king, but in these times of war I must ask for your bow and blade," the guard said.

Aldwen handed her weapons over the the King's Guard and smiled to herself at being called a lady. It suddenly dawned on her that she had never been inside of a royal hall before and wasn't entirely sure of proper decorum. Aldwen cleared her throat awkwardly, catching the guard's attention before he opened the doors to Meduseld.

"I'm sorry I have to ask, but am I suppose to bow to anyone other than the King?" Aldwen whispered with obvious embarrassment.

The guard looked at her quizzically before roaring with laughter. Aldwen tried to hush him before anyone else noticed their exchange.

"Please sir, I will not stand here and take insult. It's not common for people of Broadacres to get a summons from the King" she said with irritation. The guard halted his laughter and looked at Aldwen sheepishly.

"I apologize my lady, I do not mean to insult. When you enter, bow to King Théoden first. His heir, Lord Éomer, will likely be with him; you should bow to him too. If the White Lady of Rohan is present, you may also bow to her too. Most others are guests of the King whom I'm sure you will be introduced to. Ready?" he asked.

Aldwen nodded and gave a small smile to the guard.

"Thank you," she whispered as he opened the doors for her.

The inside of Meduseld was a hive of activity. Men and women were busy moving tables, large casks of ale, and stoking a fire pit in the middle of the hall. Aldwen was grateful for the distraction of other people as she made her way towards a large table that was set off to the side by the King's Dais. She stopped in front of a group of men, deep in conversation. Not noticing her at first Aldwen lightly cleared her throat; suddenly all eyes were on her.

"Do you need help, lass?" asked stalky man with a gruff voice; a dwarf she noted.

"I am Aldwen, daughter of Alhelm. King Théoden summoned me with interest in purchasing my uncle's horse." Nobody said anything in reply. She looked at who she assumed was Théoden and continued in desperation. "My uncle is Alleth, from Broadacres. He wrote to you about my coming in his stead." She continued anxiously on, "he is busy with foaling season and could not leave his land."

From the confused look on the King's face Aldwen knew her uncle had never intended to write to the King about her coming.

"Forgive me, he must have gotten too busy to write you," she fibbed awkwardly. She ran her hand through her tangled hair out of nervous habit. "And I forgot to bow."

Thankfully the dwarf who had first addressed her burst out in laughter, breaking the tension. Théoden stepped around the table to face her while Aldwen attempted a small bow.

"It is nice to meet you Aldwen, daughter of Alhelm. I know your uncle well and he speaks fondly of you," Théoden said while placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I was indeed expecting Alhelm but am happy to finally meet you."

"Thank you, my King," said Aldwen, letting out a small sigh as she tried to get rid of her nerves.

"Let me introduce my companions to you," he motioned first to the dwarf. "This is Gimli son of Glóin, Aragorn son of Arathron, and my nephew and heir to the Throne of Rohan, Éomer."

"A diverse group of companions you have, Théoden King." Aldwen said greeting each man in turn.

"The horse you bring is for my nephew's second in command, Éothain," Théoden explained turning to face his nephew. "Éomer, take Éothain with you down to the stable. We are about finished here anyway."

Aldwen turned to follow the King's nephew and stopped abruptly when she noticed him glaring at her. Aldwen wondering if he taken offense to something she said during her embarrassing introduction to the King. Before she could say anything, Éomer strode quickly past her leaving Aldwen trotting through the Golden Hall to catch up with him. Éomer stopped and briefly spoke with the guard who had helped to her at the doors of Meduseld. He looked past Éomer as she walked up behind him.

"My Lady, had I known your errand I would have introduced myself properly. I am Éothain," he said while bowing deeply and planting a kiss on the back of her hand.

"I am pleased to meet the one who will take over Artair's care," she said while purposefully removing her hand from his. "Though I beg you please stop calling me My Lady, you may call me Aldwen."

She looked over at Éomer who had not said a word to her since their meeting. He was looking at Éothain with a small smirk on his face. He was a handsome man, she thought. Much taller than she was, with golden hair a bit longer than hers. She couldn't tell from this distance if his eyes were hazel or green; regardless of the color she could see they had a fire smoldering behind them. Though he still wore his armor, he looked strong and lean underneath it all. At some point Éothain had said her name which snapped her attention back from her unrealized thoughts.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I asked if we should go down to the stables." Éothain repeated. It hadn't been lost on him that she had her attention fixed on Éomer.

"Yes, of course," Aldwen said as they walked towards the King's Stables. "I'll have to warn you, Éothain, I told my uncle that I did not think Artair was ready to be bought. I would have preferred to have more time with him."

"You have been Artair's handler?" Éomer asked, somewhat surprised. They had reached the stables and Aldwen was stroking the Roan's neck.

"Of course," she replied. "Do you think I ponied him the whole way here?" Aldwen intended the comment to be a joke, but Éomer seemed to take it personally. "I'm sorry, My Lord. I have been working with my uncle's horses since I was a young girl. My father..." she trailed off, not knowing how much information she should indulge.

"Well, I'd like to take him out for a ride before we make a decision." Éothain interjected, sensing her discomfort.

"Of course, I know Artair is still eager to have his head even after our journey." Aldwen said.

"Tomorrow, Éothain," Éomer said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Tonight we toast to our dead."

"Ah, how could I forget." Éothain replied. "Aldwen, you should join us tonight for our feast."

"To be honest, I had not planned for it." Aldwen remarked, looking down at her dirty clothes.

So this is why her uncle had sent her to Edoras. She tired to hide a smirk which the two men must have seen. Aldwen had intended to start her journey back to her uncle's property. She knew he needed help and planned to not linger for long.

"Stay," Éomer almost commanded. "It's far too late to journey back to Broadacres safely today. If you wish my sister can attend to you."

"Perhaps," Aldwen replied. She was slightly taken aback by Éomer's assertiveness. She couldn't read the man and was leery of his intentions. "For now, I would simply like to spend time with my friend before we part."

Éothain and and Éomer took their leave and walked back to the Golden Hall, the Marshall casting a second look back at the girl in the stables.


	3. The Feast

Éomer walked back up the steps to the Golden Hall, not stopping until he reached his chambers. Pulling off his armor he sunk down into a chair by his study; he was exhausted. There had been little time between when Mithrandir had found him and his éored, the Battle of Helm's Deep, and when he returned back to Edoras. A bath had been drawn up for him while he was down at the stables, which he was grateful for. Shedding the rest of his clothing he eased into the near scalding water; closing his eyes he breathed in deeply the smell of rich oils that had been infused in the water.

His thoughts wandered to the girl he had just been with at the King's Stable. He had never seen her before in Edoras, for he would have remembered it. She was petite, especially for a woman of Rohan. Her hair was cut at the shoulders and darker than most, though bleached by the sun. He was surprised to see delicate lines etched into the sides of her eyes when she smiled; she was not a girl as he first though but a woman closer to his age. Her skin would have been fair, but he could see she was splashed with freckles and deeply tanned from years of working under the sun. She was confident, even when she seemed to falter upon their meeting. He thought her beautiful, and couldn't stop himself when he asked her to stay for their feast.

The water in the wooden tub was beginning to cool, Éomer got out and dried by the fire. Weary from travel, he chose not to wear his armor and only donned his green tunic, breeches, and his belt. He left his chambers in search of his sister, he worried about her in the growing darkness. She had a sternness about her that had not been there before, as if the joy had been taken from her. Theodred's death had affected them all, but Éoywn seemed changed by it the most. He thought she might enjoy the company of Aldwen and found his sister in the small garden across the halls from their chambers.

"I've always found this garden comforting," he said as he sat beside his sister.

"I remember we always used to play here when we were young."

The two sat in silence for a while, enjoying the stillness of the garden.

"There is a woman from Broadacres here I thought you might enjoy the company of," Éomer broke the silence first. "I apologize, but I told her that you could help attend to her should she needed anything if she chose to stay for the evening. She's a bit...travel weary."

Éoywn looked at him with surprise. She knew that her brother worried about her being different than most others in Edoras, but he had never tried to introduce her to other women before.

"How unlike you, brother," she laughed. "I did notice her ride through the gates earlier today. That horse of hers is much too large and almost threw her off right in front of the guards. I was impressed by how she was able to manage him. I think I would like to meet her."

Aldwen left the King's stables not long after the two men had left her; she wanted to walk around Edoras while she could. It was starting to get dark and she could see the townspeople starting to head up towards the Golden Hall. Although an invitation was extended to her, she did not feel like she belonged at a feast to honor those who had fought at Helm's Deep. Though she would not deny there was evil stirring in Middle Earth, she wanted no part in it. She did not feel battle hungry like these men who surrounded her. A woman dressed in white approached, pulling Aldwen from her thoughts. She was a classic Rohirric beauty with long blonde obedient hair, she was tall and strong with a purposeful stride. Aldwen knew immediately she was the White Lady of Rohan

"Good evening, My Lady," Aldwen bowed politely, determined not to forget this time.

"You must be Aldwen from Broadacres, please call me Éoywn. My brother told me I might still find you in the city, I'm glad that I could meet you. Were you about to walk up to the Golden Hall?" She seemed genuinely happy to meet Aldwen.

"To be honest, I did not know a feast was being held. I took no part in the battle your people are celebrating. And to be vain, I look like I slept in a barn." Aldwen looked down towards the ground. She could have simply declined, but Éoywn seemed kind and she did not want to be dishonest.

"Are you so unfamiliar with your own people for you to think yourself to be unwelcome? Come, if you would like, there is still time to make you ready."

Aldwen didn't have the heart to say no to Éoywn, she already seemed so kind even though they had just met each other. The two chatted easily as they made their way up to the Golden Hall; it still was mostly empty but all was ready for the evening to begin. Éomer had been sitting with Éothain in conversation when he saw Aldwen walk in with his sister. She looked over in their direction and he couldn't help but smile when he saw them together. Aldwen quickly dropped her gaze, a slow warmth creeping into her cheeks. She hurried to catch up with Éoywn. Once in the privacy of her chambers, Éoywn asked one of her handmaids to start preparing water for a bath. Aldwen stopped Éoywn with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Do you just have a basin I could wash my face and hands in?" Aldwen asked.

"Of course, but if I may now be honest. You are covered in dirt, you smell like horse, and you have hay in your hair. Please, let Hilde attend to you. Take your time, these are my private chambers and you will not be disturbed."

"Well, if you put it that way..." Aldwen laughed. She appreciated Éoywn's bluntness.

Éoywn smiled and took her leave. Aldwen peeked around the corner to find Hilde emptying large buckets of hot water into a bath, she wanted to stop her but thought better of it. Aldwen simply thanked her before she left. She folded her dirty clothes and eased into the tub, it seemed like it had been ages since she had sat in a hot bath and reveled in the hot water and floral smell coming off the water. Suddenly Hilde appeared back in the room and took her clothes.

"What are you doing?!" Aldwen nearly jumped out of the tub, modesty was never a high priority with her.

"Your clothes are not suitable for tonight, miss. I've laid something more appropriate at the request of Lady Éoywn."

Aldwen sighed, she wasn't going to win this. "As Lady Éoywn wishes. Just please, do not get rid of my clothes."

Hilde simply smirked and left the room. Aldwen sank lower in the tub water and tried to relax. She scrubbed her hair clean with an urn of soapy water Hilde must have place nearby earlier. Satisfied that she had sufficiently scrubbed the days of travel off of herself, Aldwen walked out to where Hilde had laid out some clothes for her. A simple green shield-maidens' dress, white tunic, and belt had been laid out for her. Aldwen hadn't worn a dress since she was a small girl, but appreciated that her host had picked something simple. Her boots were also placed by the door, though someone had cleaned them almost to a dull shine. Pulling the dress on, she was surprised the clothes actually fit her. Shrugging, Aldwen pulled on her boots and left Éoywn's chambers. The sound of a party were already floating down the corridor. The feast was in full swing when Aldwen appeared. She walked the perimeter of the Great Hall, watching the townspeople with interest. She walked past a bearded man who all but shoved a full mug of ale into her hands. Laughing, she took a deep drink. A man whom she recognized when she first arrived walked up to her.

"It is good to see you again, Lord Aragorn." Aldwen nodded.

"I'm glad to see that you stayed, the road to your lands is dangerous as of late."

The two chatted easily for awhile, Aragorn was curious how a young woman had taken to working with her uncle's war horses. She felt comfortable around him; he seemed genuine and did not pry about anything to do with her uncle raising her or her being out in society on her own. Aldwen noticed that he was guarded when he spoke, and spent more time asking questions about herself than talking about what brought a Ranger to Rohan. A third companion walked up to their conversation to trade words with Aragorn. He as an elderly man that looked familiar to Aldwen, though she couldn't remember why.

"Mithrandir?" she asked hesitantly.

"I have been called that," he turned to face her with a quizzical smile.

"If I am remembering correctly, you use to come to Broadacres when I was a child. I am Aldwen, my father was Alhelm. I live on the southern boundary at the stables of the horsemaster on the hill. You used to come up to my father's house to purchase salves from my mother" She couldn't believe she actually remembered all of this; it was such a long time ago.

"Your memory serves you well Aldwen, I remember your family." He looked at her suddenly with sympathy in his eyes. "I remember your mother well, and her love for you."

"You knew my mother?"

"I did, your mother was known well in these lands as a skilled shield-maiden. She was trained by Lady Fríthild herself. When she found out that you were going to be born, she approached King Thengel who she had sworn her oath to and asked to be released from her duties so she could be a mother."

Aldwen didn't know what to say, she had never known this about her mother. She had many memories with her that she could remember, but none of them were ever about being a shield-maiden. She had always thought that her mother was a healer; her and Aldwen would frequently spend time collecting herbs to turn into salves. Her mind was suddenly spinning with questions she wanted to ask Mithrandir; she had never come across someone who spoke so openly to her about her mother.

"We can speak later about this if you wish Aldwen," he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, sensing her desperation.

She smiled, content for the moment that she had some sort of connection with her past through the wizard. Aragorn had taken his leave of their conversation and Aldwen was left alone in her thoughts as Mithrandir moved on to speak with the Ranger alone. Her thoughts wheeled uncontrollably when she noticed Éoywn standing silently beside her.

"Is everything okay, Aldwen?" she asked.

"Yes, I was just lost for a moment," she replied, drawing in a deep breath. "Thank you for getting me ready, I am happy that I stayed."

"You're most welcome. My brother was the one who approached me first and suggested that I seek you out, I am glad that I did."

"Did he? I was certain after my embarrassing introduction with your uncle this afternoon he thought me a leper! He hardly spoke two words to me the whole afternoon." Aldwen proceed to tell Éoywn about her first meeting with the king earlier that afternoon, which left the two shaking with laughter. Aldwen hardly noticed as Éomer walked up beside his sister and placed an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm happy you managed to find her," Éomer said. Aldwen could see his eyes were beginning to get glassy from the ale; he handed Aldwen and his sister another mug full. Éomer couldn't help but noticed how different Aldwen looked when she cleaned up. Her hair, which was untamed on their meeting, now fell in well kept waves to her delicate collarbones. Her skinned seemed fairer since the dust from the road had been washed away, though you could still tell she was a hard working woman. She was not wearing the tunic and coat she had arrived in, but it seemed unlikely she was a woman who traveled with more than one change of clothes. He smiled then, turning to Éoywn.

"Are those your clothes from when you were a girl?" he suddenly asked sending the two women into another fit of laughter

"Forgive me, Aldwen. I could think of nothing else to give you that would fit you; you're so petite."

"Think nothing of it, my uncle always tells me the best things come in small packages." she replied. "I just hope Hilde didn't burn my clothes, I am rather fond of that coat." It was not lost on Aldwen that the Marshall had been staring at her.

The hour was beginning to grow late, the townspeople were filtering out of the Golden Hall towards sleep. Aldwen, after finishing her fourth mug of ale, still needed to find a place to put her bedroll for the night. She had been sitting with Éoywn and Éomer most of the night enjoying pleasant conversation. Eventually she pulled herself away, feeling a desperate need for sleep. Excusing herself, she walked out into the crisp star filled night.

"Do you have a place to sleep for the night?" she heard low Éomer's voice next to her.

"I have made arrangements for myself." She had stopped walking to face him. She was closer to him than she had expected and her heart began to beat faster at his nearness. She wouldn't deny that she was attracted to the man and was flattered he seemed to take in interest in her. She also knew both of them had indulged heartily in the nights' festivities. She could easily keep the night going with him if she wanted it, but instead she just bowed her head in parting.

"If I may bid you a good night then, I am glad you decided to stay." he bowed his head slightly, keeping his eyes on her. He watched her as she turned and walked down the steps towards the warmly lit houses of the town; he wanted to follow her. She was quick witted and confident, she made him and Éoywn laugh regularly when they spoke together that night. Though, underneath her confidence and humor Éomer thought he could pick up traces of sorrow, skillfully hid behind a veil of amiability. He knew it unwise to try and get involved with someone when tomorrow was far from guaranteed, but Éomer had never been one to squander an opportunity.

Aldwen walked away from Éomer, having no such arrangements made for herself that night. She thought about turning back, just to see where the night would go. She shook her head, her morals weren't that loose and knew she had indulged a little too much. Her saddle bags and bedroll were still in the King's Stable with Artair. She walked down to the dimly lit stable to find her belongings; it was warm and quiet inside. Having no other options Aldwen grabbed her bedroll and Artair's saddle blanket and settled down in the fresh straw for the night. With the ale sitting warm in her belly and a strong roof over her head, it wouldn't be close to the worse place she had ever slept.


	4. News

**A/N: Hello readers, just wanted to give a big thank you to everyone who has been reviewing as I wade through my first attempt at writing. I know these first few chapters are slow, but I wanted to give my characters time to get to know each other before getting deeper into the story. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! -Lilywn**

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Éomer walked into the King's Stable the next morning. His head was foggy from the feast the night before and he wanted to take the early morning to ride with Firefoot to clear his head. He was readying his horse when he noticed a small pair of boots outside of a paddock. Thinking they belonged to the stableboy, he was about to turn to leave when he saw the boots were outside of Artair's paddock. Curiously he peered over the stalls and was surprised to see Aldwen curled on her side in the corner of the horse's stall. The night had been cold and her bare feet were poking out from under her dress, but she seemed to have a sheen of sweat across her forehead. Her brow was drawn tight and her eyes moving rapidly under their lids; a bad dream perhaps. He knelt down and lightly shook her awake. She awoke with a start, slamming her head into the food trough in Artair's paddock. Éomer jumped back as she swore loudly, startling both him and the horse. Her heart was racing as she looked around in confusion seeing Éomer standing in front of her.

"Your arrangements, I see?" he asked offering her a hand up. Aldwen brought a hand to her head, rubbing the bump that was already forming.

"You didn't exactly ask where," she quipped. She closed her eyes, swaying slightly against the throbbing of her head. Éomer put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"It is nothing," Aldwen said shrugging his hand off. She was embarrassed that he had found her in the stables. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded, sitting back down by her saddlebags.

"These are in fact the King's Stable's, I was about to take Firefoot out for the morning," he said as he turned on his heel. His temper was short this morning and he did not like being questioned.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong," Aldwen said, halting him. "I did not have a place to stay last night, nor did I want to impose. Your hospitality already far exceeds what I deserve. Last night was wonderful, I did not mean to offend you." Her honestly disarmed Éomer's temper; with the exception of his sister, there were few people who spoke so candidly to him.

"Come, I can show you our lands if you would like," he offered. He wanted to spend more time with her. He knew she had already written to her uncle to send a stable boy with her horse so she could return to Broadacres.

Aldwen slowly stood up again, grabbing her saddle blanket from the ground. "I would like that."

The morning was slowly turning into the afternoon as Éomer and Aldwen rode through the Mark. Aldwen knew most of the land that she was shown but was happy to be outside in the sunshine. It had only just turned March and the air was crisp; the snows of Emyn Muil still deep. The rivers of Rohan were beginning to swell with the spring runoff and vibrant flowers were starting to show their faces through the green grasses. Aldwen could tell the Marshal loved these lands for he beamed with pride as he told Aldwen stories of his adventures as a young man in Rohan. Presently, her attention was drawn across the grasses with concern as she saw Gandalf with one of the Hobbits she had met the night before galloping from the gates of Edoras away from them.

"Gandalf leaves with urgency," she said, dismay clearly in her voice. "I had hoped to speak with him today." She vividly remembered her conversation with the wizard from the night before. The amount of ale she had last night was the only thing that kept her thoughts from running wild. Seeing him leave in haste this morning brought her emotions from the night before back to the surface.

"He has business to attend to in Gondor, I cannot say more." They had come to the banks of the Snowbourn River on their way back towards Edoras. Aldwen stopped before they got close to the North Road and leaped from Artair's back. She casually handed the reins to Éomer as she quickly strode down to the river. Her actions were so sudden Éomer thought he had offended her somehow.

"Aldwen, what are you doing?" he called down to her as he dismounted Firefoot. She was sitting down, pulling her boots off by the river.

"My thoughts are cloudy, and I find the best way to clear one's head after a lively night is to jump in a cold river." Éomer quickly turned his back to her as Aldwen began to shrug out of her dress.

"My Lord Éomer, I believe you are blushing. Have you never beheld a woman before?" she slipped the dress over her head and removed her tunic, keeping only her undergarments on.

"I have beheld women before, usually in the privacy of my own chambers!" he shouted over the noise of the water. Aldwen jumped in, controlling the urge to breathe in at the shock of the cold water. She floated on her back for a moment before the cold started to overcome her. She quickly climbed out and lay on her stomach in the sun on the nearest flat rock. Éomer turned back around when she called his name, patting her hand by the space next to her. He secured the reins of their horses to a nearby tree and went to her.

"You're mad, you do know that," he said sitting down next to her.

"We are all only given a little spark of madness, Éomer, we must remember not to lose it."

She turned over on her back and closed her eyes. Éomer couldn't help but look at the way the wet fabric clung to her as it dried. She was so small under all that cloth; he guessed he could fit both of his hands around her waist. She was lean though, with only a small womanly softness around her belly and hips. He could make out the lines of muscle on her slender arms and shoulders as she stretched in the sunshine. Sighing, he laid on his back with his arms folded behind his head. They lay there together for a long while content in each other's company as they watched the clouds slowly roll by.

"When did you come to Edoras under the care of the King?" Aldwen asked, breaking the silence.

"When I was eleven my father was slain by Orcs in Emyn Muil; not long after my mother succumbed to illness. The King was grieved by the loss of his sister and took Éoywn and me in as his own children. When I had grown, the King appointed me the Third Marshal of the Riddermark and gave me lordship of Aldburg."

"A sad story for someone who has risen so high. Forgive me, but besides basking by the river with me, what exactly does the Third Marshal of the Riddermark do for the King?" Aldwen teased.

"Thankfully, I do not have many fixed duties; my role changes according to the needs of the King. And what of you- what keeps you toiling in the sun all day with these fickle creatures?"

Aldwen laughed. "Do you refer to men or the horses?"

"Both, I suppose," Éomer replied, laughing with her.

"Though I cannot count myself as lucky as you, I was still fortunate enough to be taken in by my uncle after my parent's death. Alleth does not have any children of his own, but he treats me like a daughter. His property has been in our family for many generations and I enjoy continuing on with our families' trade; I suppose to makes me feel closer to what I lost."

"What of your future? From the outside your craft seems to be a lonely endeavor for a woman," Éomer asked.

"If you are asking how I feel about dying a lonely, old maid surrounded by her fickle beasts I appreciate your concern!" Aldwen feigned flattery. "I'll have you know, my uncle has received plenty of offers for my hand."

"Plenty, you say?" Éomer laughed. "Yet here you are, laying in the sun in your underclothes next to a man you met yesterday."

"I did not say that he accepted. I am not some broodmare that can be traded away in exchange for coin; my uncle would never do that to me. I am not a young maid, but I would never think to accept an offer of convenience simply for the sake of not being alone. To that end, my Lord, I can lay in the sun next to any man that I please."

"Your uncle sounds like an honorable man; I would fear for anyone who would try and marry you for anything but love," he said with a smirk. They fell into an easy silence again. Éomer knew moments of peace were few as the days grew darker. Even now as they sat in the sunshine, the armies of the Enemy were gathering strength to strike against their allies. Though at that moment, he was content with the warmness of the sun upon his face and the company of a woman next to him.

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Éomer woke with a start to the sound of horses galloping by on the North Road. They had fallen asleep and the sun was now entering the western skies. Éomer looked towards the riders with obvious concern; they were men from part of his uncle's éored who had been patrolling the Mark.

"I should go to the Golden Hall, the King's riders seem to have news," he said getting up releasing the reins of their horses.

Aldwen had already donned her dress and tunic and was lacing up her boots. He waited a moment for her, then spurred Firefoot towards the gates of Edoras. Once at the stables Aldwen took Firefoot's reins as Éomer dismounted, offering to tend to both of their horses so he may depart. He turned to Aldwen before leaving, taking one of her hands in his.

"I am glad we found each other this morning; spending it with you has been a pleasant distraction." He placed a delicate kiss on the back of her hand before turning and walking out of the stables.

Aldwen was attending to Artair when he heard a restless horse whinnying from across that stables, it was Maon. She was surprised to find her mare here, she had not seen her uncle's stablehand ride in with her. She stroked the mare's neck, for Maon seemed to be anxious in the new stables. She looked around for the boy who had brought her horse but did not find him. Aldwen shrugged and started collecting her belongings into her saddlebag. She made her way to the Golden Hall, wanting return Éoywn's clothing. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dimness of the hall when she heard familiar voices coming from the dais.

"We do not have the time to send more men out in their defense," she heard King Théoden say. "We stand at the brink of war and I need our men in Edoras." Aldwen slunk around in the shadows of the hall; she knew she was intruding on something her ears were not meant to hear.

"My King, these Orcs remain unchallenged killing at will. They have already made their way through Middlemead into Broadacres burning as they go." She recognized the boy speaking was Ceorl, the stablehand who must have brought Maon. Aldwen felt the blood drain from her face as she stepped out of the shadows toward the dais.

"What did you just say?" she demanded.

"Aldwen, you are not meant to be here," the King said sternly. Before he could say anything else, she was running out of the Golden Hall as a wave of panic surged over her. She had made it down to the King's Stables and was hastily throwing her saddle blanket over Maon's back when she felt a strong hand stop her.

"Do not do this Aldwen, the hour is too late," Éomer said grimly. Saying nothing she broke free from his grasp and grabbed her saddle, trying not to panic as she continued to ready Maon. Grabbing her blade and shouldering her bow, Aldwen jumped into her saddle wheeling her horse around when Éomer suddenly grabbed the mare by her reins.

"Aldwen, do not go so willingly to your own death!" Éomer shouted. "That boy just made it out with his life; you will not make it on your own." She could not control the rage that flashed red hot at his actions. Aldwen unsheathed her blade and pointed it at Éomer's neck; he dropped the reins and took several steps backward with his hands held up in peace.

"I am not under your command!" her words were almost feral with fear. "Take your men and come with me if you wish, but do not hinder me on this errand, Éomer." He did not move to stop her again as she urged her horse into a gallop out of the stables. Éomer ran back up to the Golden Hall to plead with the King; he could not let her go to her doom.


	5. Broadacres

**A/N: Hello everyone, just wanted to give you a heads up that this chapter is a bit dark. I enjoyed writing it and wanted to try and convey the hardship of what I think living in Middle Earth in times of war might actually be like. I love reading your comments, too! Enjoy- Lilywn.**

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Aldwen knew if she pushed Maon that they would reach Broadacres by dawn. She had only slowed when she came to Middlemead late in the evening and saw the devastation the Orcs had brought to the town. Its people had been slain in the street; their bodies still remained where they fell. Their homes and markets still smoldered as the remaining villagers wandered without purpose through their destroyed town. They paid little heed to her as she rode by them. Aldwen's fear was mounting with every step Maon took closer to Broadacres. She spurred her mare into a steady gallop once again, riding through the coming darkness. She wondered if anyone from Edoras would follow her. Aldwen was confident she could handle a few Orcs herself, but beyond that she doubted herself. Maybe Éomer was right, perhaps it was already too late. Perhaps she was running a fool's errand. She shook her head then, her eyes stinging as she fought back her tears.

She could feel Maon growing wary as dawn approached, for Aldwen was also beginning to tire from riding through the night. They were getting near to Broadacres and she could already see the plumes of smoke rising from the town. Her stomach began to churn with dread. The sun was beginning to rise along the eastern horizon, painting the sky hues of red as she slowed Maon. As Aldwen entered Broadacres, she saw the devastation was worse than she thought it would be. Buildings and markets she grew up with were now gone, burnt black along with the grasses of the plains. There were few villagers left in the town. Those who had survived were busy searching for loved ones or tending to their dead. Riding by house after charred house, she arrived at the gate to her uncle's property. She stopped then, hearing the sound of many horses approaching quickly behind her. She wheeled around grabbing her bow and nocking an arrow in fear that the enemy had returned.

Éomer slowed as he watched Aldwen lower her bow, her scowl softening at their approach. They exchanged a short glance with each other as Aldwen began making her way up the familiar lane to her home. "Spread out and search for survivors," he ordered his men. "Be on your guard, the enemy may still yet linger."

Éomer followed close behind Aldwen as they came to the remains of her home. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she jumped from her saddle and searched desperately for her uncle through the house. She called his name desperately as she moved through the collapsing timbers. There was hardly anything left that was untouched by flames. She ran out of the house and crested the hill upon which stood their stable. She gasped in horror at what she saw before her. The tall grasses surrounding their property were still blazing; the flames greedily consuming the carcasses of their slain horses. It seemed few had been spared as they attempted to escape their paddocks. Great roils of smoke billowed from every structure on their property. The doors of the stablehand's quarters had been barred shut from the outside. She shuttered to think of the fate of the young men who had helped her in the stables.

Éomer put his hand on her shoulder and solemnly nodded towards the entrance of the stable. She reluctantly walked towards the entrance, for deep in her heart she knew what she would find. It was within the smoldering remains that she saw Alleth. She would have thought him dreaming if not for the black arrows that pierced him. Her lamentations grieved all that heard them. Aldwen sat for a long while cradling the body of her uncle, rocking back and forth as waves of sorrow raked through her body. Éomer stood watch outside the stable for a time before unease fell over him. He knew little could be done and worried Orcs would be roaming the closer darkness came. The sun was nearly overhead when Éomer finally knelt beside Aldwen, touching her gently on the back.

"We cannot linger here," he said softly. The stable was beginning to creak. Its large timbers were being steadily consumed by smoldering embers that were being rekindled by the growing afternoon winds.

"I cannot leave him," her voice was thick with grief as she looked up at him.

"He is safe here. The fire will consume his body but his spirit will linger, in this place he loved, before he enters the halls of his forefathers. Though we of the living must depart." He lifted her off the ground and with a firm hand guided her away from her uncle. Aldwen let Éomer help her into her saddle and lead her away towards his gathering éored on the road below. She dared not look back, fearing she could not control the impulse to run back to Alleth.

Aldwen was so lost in her grief that she did not hear the men shouting from the South, nor did she see the small band of Orcs that had emerged from trees to the West of them. She had just enough time to grab her bow before the Orcs were upon them. Letting loose an arrow to find its mark, she drew her sword and jumped from her awoken from her daze, Aldwen realized she had only ever sparred with Alleth in practice. Now, as she squared off with her enemy, she found herself overwhelmed with fear. Her heart raced uncontrollably against her will. Her hands trembled as she desperately blocked the Orc's attacks. Aldwen knew she was losing this fight. In a last attempt to gain control she leaped backward. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself into an offensive stance. Determined not to let her fear control her, Aldwen let out a primal yell as she began her attack. Her uncle's training was the only thing she allowed herself to think about as she drove her blade through her enemy. She realized these Orcs were untrained and clumsy in their attacks; what little training she possessed was far superior to her enemy's. While her fear still remained, she found it easier to control with each foe she brought down. It became a dance to her then; a dangerous game of sword play.

Aldwen and several of Éomer's men had successfully dispatched the Orcs on the road while the rest of the éored had been driving the remaining Orcs into the burnt grasses. Sheathing her blade, Aldwen turned to find her mount just as an arrow came hurtling across the road. Unknowingly stepping into its path, it struck her with such force that it knocked her backward onto the ground. She lay there in a daze, not entirely sure what had just happened to her. Through a fog, Aldwen heard her name being shouted as she tried to sit up. Searing pain instantly shot down her left arm. She looked down in anger to find an arrow lodged deeply in her left shoulder.

"Lay still," Éomer ordered her; he was at her side in an instant. His brow was knit tightly in worry as he eased her back down to the ground. "I am sorry for this," he said as he grabbed the arrow. Nothing could have prepared her for the pain that seemed to flow through her body as Éomer tried to dislodge the arrow. Aldwen screamed, desperate for him to stop.

"Just break it at the shaft," she gasped. "It will not come out that way, a healer will need to remove it." Nodding in agreement, Éomer grabbed the arrows' shaft and broke it close to where the wound was open. Éothain appeared by Aldwen's side and helped her to sit up. She winced while she felt around the wound.

"Better not to know," he said as he gently pushed Aldwen's hand away.

He ripped a piece of long fabric from his cloak and bound Aldwen's arm close to her chest. The two men helped her back on her horse and gave her the reins. There was nothing left to be done for her town. The fires would eventually consume what remaining dwellings there were. Perhaps, in time, if the foundations still remained the people of her town could rebuild and start anew. Aldwen looked back only once towards the stable. The roof had now completely collapsed and was fully engulfed in flame. She knew she would never return to this place, for it held too much grief for one person to carry.

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Each step that Maon took was agony for Aldwen, though she tried not to show it. She couldn't tell if the fog that was beginning to cloud her eyes was from her sorrow, or from the pain of the arrow lodged in her shoulder. She spoke to no one on their march back to Edoras. She only looked up when the éored stopped to make camp for the night. She was helped down from Maon by a tall Rider who looked down at her arm in concern. Saying nothing to the man, she turned and walked away from the group to find a quiet place to sit. She was starting to feel flush and knew that a fever was beginning to set in. Orcs were known for soiling the tips of their arrows with not just poison, but with other foul things to make a wound fester quickly. She did not have the energy to pay any heed to what her fate might be. She knew it would be a slow death, but in death, she would be released from all the grievances of her life.

As darkness fell over their camp, Éomer walked over to where Aldwen had been sitting during the evening. He found her asleep in the tall green grasses; her face was wary even as she slept. He frowned when he saw the fabric that bound her arm soaked with blood. He carefully picked her up and felt the heat that was beginning to consume her. He carefully lay her down on her bedroll and covered her with a few cloaks and her mare's saddle blanket. He continued watching her as she settled back into a troubled sleep. Unable to sleep himself, Éomer kept a worried eye on Aldwen most of the night. She stirred a few times, groaning in pain, then fell eerily silent until the morning.

The men began to stir as dawn was just beginning to touch the horizon. Éomer had been awake well before any of them saddling Firefoot and Maon. The morning sun upon Aldwen's face showed the gleam of sweat on her brow and a paleness that only sickness brings. When she woke, she felt as if she had been drugged by some witch's potion. Her head spun wildly and she had to fight the urge to vomit. Éothain walked up to her with food and drink and would not leave until she had finished. He removed the binding from her arm and pushed her tunic aside to look at the wound. Blood still slowly seeped from the wound and the surrounding skin was hot to the touch. Frowning, he rebound her arm with a fresh piece of fabric.

"Come on, let's get you on that fine horse of yours," he said helping her up. Aldwen barley had the strength to stand and leaned heavily on Éothain as he helped her to her horse. With much effort, she managed to get in her saddle.

Aldwen was vaguely aware that Éomer rode by her side most of the morning. She was becoming increasingly listless. Fresh blood was still seeping down her arm staining the leg of her dress. All she wanted to do was to lie down somewhere quiet and fall into a deep sleep. As the morning dragged into the afternoon, darkness finally overcame Aldwen's vision as she started falling from her saddle. Éomer was there to catch her and quickly eased her onto Firefoot's back. He knew they needed to get back to Edoras and was impatient with their pace. Now, he urged his horse into a steady gallop. Aldwen stirred from her daze and shrieked in pain, grabbing at Firefoot's mane in an attempt to get the horse to stop.

"Easy," he said as he grabbed her hands, trying to get her to calm. "We cannot delay any longer, you need help and quickly." He did not slow their pace even as Aldwen begged for him to stop. Eventually, darkness overtook her once more, which Éomer was thankful for. He knew her pain was great but he would not slow their pace now. He could feel the heat that came off of her burned hotter than the night before and was dismayed. While the arrow wasn't poisoned, the longer it remained lodged in her shoulder in the worse the fever would be. They made good time from there and came to the gates of Edoras by stopping at the stables, Éomer raced up to stairs of the Golden Hall pulling Aldwen down into his arms from his saddle.

"I need help," he shouted as he ran into the Golden Hall. Not waiting for a response, he brought Aldwen into one of the empty rooms of the King's Household. He laid her down on the bed as Aragorn walked into the room.

"I've some skill in healing," he said quietly. He looked upon Aldwen's pale face and the blood that soaked through her clothing. "What happened?" he asked as he went to her side.

"We were on the road leaving Broadacres when a band of Orcs rushed out of the woods at us. I was unable to get the arrow out. Her fever started sometime in the evening yesterday," Éomer explained.

"What of her kin?" Éomer simply shook his head. Aragorn looked back down at Aldwen with sorrow. He undid her binding exposing the wound, his brow pinched tight. "This is grave, are you sure the arrow was not poisoned?" Aragorn asked.

"She would be dead already if it had been," Éomer replied.

"I will need help. Go find your sister, and bring a few strong others." Éomer nodded and left the room.

He found Éothain waiting for him by the dais, quietly speaking with the King. He knew that they both cared for Aldwen, as did most others who had gotten the chance to meet her. Her quick wit and kindness had quickly won over many hearts in her short time in Edoras. It was for that reason King Théoden agreed to let Éomer take part of his éored in the defense of Broadacres. Théoden did not fail to notice how his nephew's stern demeanor lightened when he was near her. He also knew he could not stop him from going after her.

"If you wouldn't mind, Lord Aragorn needs help," he said to Éothain as he bowed to his uncle.

"If you should see Éoywn, please bid her to come help as well." Théoden put a comforting hand on Éomer's shoulder and gave him a quick nod. The two men walked back into the chambers where Aldwen lay. Aragorn had already removed her bloodied tunic and undergarment shirt, covering her with a clean white sheet. He was wiping the caked blood away from the wound and speaking softly to her in Elvish. She looked even smaller to Éomer as she lay there, bare from the waist up. She was deep in a fevered dream, her chest and face slicked with sweat.

"The arrow has pierced her deeply, it seems to be caught under the bone," Aragorn explained. He was placing a pair of thin metal tongs into the fire which a maid had come to light. Éoywn came into the room then, carrying powders and salves at Aragorn's request. He bid Éomer and Éothain hold Aldwen down as he picked up a small blade. Aldwen was dragged out of her sleep then as Aragorn inserted the blade into the wound. Her eyes shot open in utter panic as she struggled against Éomer and Éothain in vain, pleading with Aragorn to stop.

"Leave it!" she yelled, Aragorn stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "Please, just leave it," she said more quietly. "I care not, I simply want to be at peace in the long darkness after this life is spent."

Silence fell on the room, the crackling of the fire was the only sound that could be heard. In her despair, she had meant her words for it was not the first time those thoughts had crossed her mind. Aldwen had always known that when her death finally did come, she would gladly welcome its finality as an old friend. Having never been close to her own death before, she was now tempted by its closeness. She wondered how easy it would be to give in to the weariness that lay heavily on her now. For she had grown tired of carrying her grief with her wherever she went. It followed her like an unmerciful shadow, tormenting her not just in her dreams. She did not desire to carry that pain through the long years of her life.

Aragorn put the blade down and took both of her small hands in his. "Grief is a most peculiar thing; we are so helpless in the face of it. It's like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less; and one day we wonder what has become of it. I know your sorrow runs deep, but you are young and should not be afraid to receive each day's sunrise, whether it comes to you with sorrow or with joy. It will open a new place in your heart, a place where you can welcome new friends and celebrate more fully each day of your life. Please, let us help you."

Aldwen looked around the chambers. She could clearly see the dismay on the faces of her companions at her words. Éoywn had turned away from Aldwen's gaze, her eyes looked misty with tears. She then looked up at Éomer to see that her words had wounded him the most. She could see a deep sadness behind his eyes that had not been there before. Guilt crept up from Aldwen's heart as she looked upon his face. She had thought little about how her words would affect anyone other than herself. She knew they had come to her aid out of friendship. For she would do the same for each of them if there was the need. It had been long since Aldwen had counted herself as a friend to anyone other than her uncle. Through her own self-wrought isolation, Aldwen had forgotten that friendship means belonging to something greater than ones' self.

"I'm sorry," she finally managed to whisper. She knew the apology to be inadequate but lacked the strength for anything more.

Éomer then leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Aldwen's forehead. It was meant to be a subtle gesture, but it was missed by none. Aldwen looked back over to Aragorn and gave him a small nod. She set her jaw and closed her eyes as he picked up the small blade once again. Though she tried to stifle them, her screams sent a chill down even the strongest spine in the Golden Hall.

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 **To give due credit, the first part of Aragorn's speech to Aldwen in this chapter is one of my favorite quotes from Memoirs of a Geisha, combined with a modified version of a sermon from Henri Nouwen. I have found great comfort in their words in my own life.**

 **Maon is pronounced like 'moon.'**


	6. Healing

**Greetings everyone! Thank you for your patience for this new chapter. I'm deep in nursing school right now and have limited time to write. I have no plans on abandoning Aldwen, though! Stay tuned for more...**

When Aragorn finally managed to pull the arrow's tip out from Aldwen's shoulder she had fallen into a death-like sleep. She stirred little, and would not arouse even to take water. Aragorn would check on her frequently, cleaning the wound and applying steeped herbs and salves to aid in healing. He was not certain that she would come out of her fever alive, but said nothing. Éomer would also come frequently and sit in silence, his eyes dark with worry. He would watch Aldwen's chest rise and fall irregularly, her breathing shallow and her face drained of any color. He was angry with himself for not being more forceful with Aldwen when she departed for Broadacres. He had been surprised when she drew her blade against him in the stables. While her eyes burned with anger, he could see her hand tremble from her actions. Presently his moods were unpredictable, and all save Éoywn was wise enough to stay out of his way. It was on the third day that Aldwen's fever finally broke. Éowyn walked into her chambers delighted to find that she had finally stirred.

"Thank Béma, you're awake. How are you feeling?" She rushed into the room, sitting on the bed beside Aldwen. With a simple look, Aldwen needn't reply to how she was feeling. Éoywn brought her an urn full of water which Aldwen drank down greedily.

"What day is it?" Aldwen asked, her voice hoarse.

"March the Third, three days since you arrived back in Edoras," Éoywn explained as she took the urn away. "You should not drink too fast, you will make yourself sick." She gently pulled down the light sleeping dress which Aldwen now wore, exposing her wound. Aragorn had been diligently tending to it, applying tinctures of healing herbs before he sewed the wound shut. Its redness was already diminishing as the infection abated. Aldwen would always bear a large scar, but in time the wound would heal.

"I should let Lord Aragorn know that you are awake, he will be glad," Éowyn said as she got up. "As will my brother."

"Lord Aragorn knowing will be enough." Aldwen felt a tight knot form in her throat at the mention of Éomer.

She did not have the heart to see him yet, her memories were foggy but she remembered her feeling of guilt at her words. Éowyn gave her a small nod and left, shutting the chamber door. Though she had been in a deep sleep, Aldwen still felt exhausted. Her grief was heavy on her heart and she could not stop the flow of tears that sprang up as soon as Éowyn left the room. There was also anger rising up to mix with her grief. An anger that she had never known she possessed before. She had known little about the evil things stirring in distant lands, for how could they ever touch her? Though, nothing could quell the horror she had felt when she saw the cruelty and malice put forth by these servants of darkness. For it was only creatures of true evil that could have so little regard for any life, light, or good that this world held. She hated them.

"I'm glad to see you awake, Aldwen." She had not heard Aragorn enter the room. Her hands were tightly clutching the bedding in her anger. Aragorn placed a hand gently on her forehead, satisfied that her fever had indeed broken. He examined her shoulder, making sure the edges of the wound were coming together. "You are healing well, despite the seriousness of your injury." He sat down in a chair next to her bed. "It seems you have many thoughts other than your healing. What troubles you?"

"Tell me about the evil that rises in the East." Aldwen was never to shy away from getting to the point, a trait her father possessed.

Aragorn sighed and began with the tale of Morgoth and his servant Sauron, a tale which Aldwen knew well. He told her of the battles won against the traitor Saruman and his Uruk-Hai. He told her as much as he could without revealing the true nature of their quest and Frodo's ultimate task to destroy the One Ring. He explained that an attack on Gondor was only a matter of time, which is why they had gathered in Edoras. Aldwen listened intently to all that was said, taking in the gravity of their situation. From Aragorn's words, she began to finally understand that even if she wanted no part in what was to come, it was to be the doom of all people should Sauron be victorious. She realized she had been sheltered in Broadacres from the horrors of war. Now that her shelter was gone she felt truly exposed to the evils in Middle-Earth.

"What now, then?" she asked after Aragorn shared all he could.

"We wait. If the beacons of Minas Tirith are lit, King Théoden will have to decide if Rohan shall ride to the aid of Gondor; but nothing is certain."

Aragorn leaned further back into his chair, enjoying the quietness of the chambers. Aldwen sank deep into thought until she felt the heavy hand of sleep began to take her again. When she woke again, the room had grown dark from the coming night. The hour was late, for the fire in the hearth was beginning to fade. She heard the sounds of someone shifting in their seat and looked over to find Éomer sitting where Aragorn had once been. He gave her a small smile but said nothing. Aldwen, in turn, did not have words for him at that moment. A lengthy silence again fell upon the room; only the smoldering embers on the fire could be heard.

"I should have listened to you," Aldwen whispered after great length. "I knew deep in my heart there was nothing I could do, but I could not stop myself. Never before had I felt such desperation and fear. I have lived a life sheltered from the evils of the world. I was so blinded by that veil of innocence it had never crossed my mind such an evil could befall my land. I regret putting your éored in danger on account of my selfishness. I am sorry for-" Éomer put his hand up to silence her.

"There is nothing to forgive, Aldwen. My men and I went willingly to your aid. You acted as anyone would have if their kin were in danger. I only regret that we received news of these attacks so late." He took Aldwen's hand in his, watching as her face grew dark. "Although, I know of no woman who has ever drawn their blade against me."

"Not even your sister?" Aldwen joked. "I'm sorry, I was driven mad by my own desperation and anger. I knew not what I did."

"Remind me never to anger you." Éomer was sitting closer to her now than he had been, her small hand still in his.

"Why did you follow me?" she asked lifting her eyes to finally meeting his gaze. Éomer thought for a long moment before answering.

"Because friendship is a gift in this life, made even more precious in times of evil. I feel I have received a great gift in our meeting, and I did not want to be parted from you."

.

.

.

Aldwen woke to bright shafts of sunlight casting their warmth across her face. She had drifted back to sleep as she and Éomer spoke quietly together as the night deepened around them. She found herself alone now, though the fire had been stoked back to life in the hearth. She took this chance of solitude to rise from her bed and take a few unsteady steps around the room. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but she welcomed the sensation. She found herself restless from days of idleness.

She made her way on unsteady legs over towards a small table. Atop its surface were pieces of seemingly discarded livery. Folding her legs beneath her, she sat in a low chair and absentmindedly started sifting through the pieces of armor. She picked up a small hauberk, every link still as strong as when it was formed. There were also pieces of fine leather armor. The most beautiful was a breastplate intricately adorned with the crest of Rohan. Fine arm bracings a set of greaves there were also. Lastly was a blade, its hilt adorned with two horses intertwined as one. Their flowing manes serving as the terminus of the hilt. The pieces were beautiful she thought. All were well used and taken care of.

There was a light knock on her door then. Éowyn peered around the chamber door and entered, seeing that Aldwen was awake again. Aldwen quickly dropped the hilt of the sword she was still holding. She rose from her chair and apologized to Éoywn for prying.

Éowyn laughed lightly. "Éothain found them in your uncle's house," she explained. "I had to keep myself from prying! The pieces are quite beautiful. Do they belong to you?"

"They're my mother's," Aldwen said with sudden certainty. For she could think of no other reason why this armor would be hidden from her in Alleth's house. "My mother had been a shield-maiden of Rohan before my birth."

"It explains your courage, it does not surprise me that a horsemaster's daughter has such skill with the tools of war."

"It was not she who taught me, it was Alleth. He was insistent that I be taught how to defend myself. He was even more ardent with my training after my parents' death," she paused. " Now, I can see it was driven by a fear that I would one day be alone."

Éowyn took up both of Aldwen's hands. "I know from the depths of your despair you may feel alone," she said. "But you are not alone in this world."

There was another light knock on the chamber door. "Beg your pardon, My Lady." Hilde appeared in the doorway. "I've brought hot water at your request."

"You are too kind, Éowyn," Aldwen said; not just about the hot water.

"Come, wash away your sorrows and start the day anew." Éowyn gave her a beaming smile in parting as she left the room.

Hilde had drawn a hot bath for her and helped her out of the dress she wore. Her shoulder was sore and the stitches Aragorn had put in pulled against the swollen skin surrounding the wound as she moved. This was the first time Aldwen had gotten to see her injury and was surprised at how large the gash was.

"Hopefully, whoever you wed can look past the scar you will carry from your wound," Hilde said as Aldwen sank into the tub.

"If he cannot then I know he is not the man for me, Hilde. And who's to say if I will ever be married? I've heard tale of old witches in the West who are quite happy to be alone in the woods."

"I meant no offense, miss. I just assume it is most women's dream to be married and bear sons for their husbands." Aldwen could not tell if Hilde was being serious or not, but laughed none the less.

"You are young and sweet, Hilde. Rohan is filled with women of strong will and courage who have fulfilled their own lives. Do not ever let someone else's dream become your own." Hilde smiled at Aldwen while she helped her wash and rinse her hair.

After bathing, Aldwen was glad to see that Hilde had not thrown away her old clothes. After having had to wave Hilde off several times, she carefully dressed in her familiar garments. They had been cleaned thoroughly. Even some of the holes had been darned in her absence. Hilde then reappeared, insisting on using the binding Aragorn had ordered Aldwen to use while her arm healed. Finally satisfied, Hilde left Aldwen to fix her a small meal. Although she was still weary from her fever, Aldwen was restless and eager for fresh air.

Leaving her chambers, she found a secluded garden that afforded a sweeping view of Edoras. Aldwen closed her eyes as she let the cool spring air wash over her. The delicate bubbling of water could be heard nearby; the sweet aroma of blooming flowers was intoxicating. She sat alone in her own thoughts for a while when the sound of a door shutting pulled her back to the present. King Théoden had walked into the garden, seemingly unaware of her presence. She watched him silently as he paced to and fro, rubbing his brow with his fingers. Coughing quietly, she stood up and bowed her head at him. He wheeled around in surprise at the intrusion.

"My apologies, King Théoden, I did not expect to be a bother to anyone out here," Aldwen said as she walked towards the door. He stopped her with a gentle hand before she could leave.

"Sit with me," he beaconed pointing to a stone bench in the courtyard. "I am glad to see you are doing well. I hope you have found a small amount of comfort in my Hall."

"I have, thank you. Your hospitality is more than I deserve. By your leave, once I am well enough I will make my way back North-"

Théoden waved his hand, "Please, remain here as long as you wish. Long has it been since I have seen my niece enjoy so greatly the company of another." He smiled then. "And I know not what has come over Éomer, but by some feat, it seems you have him under some spell." Aldwen blushed deeply. "He told me that you fought with great courage in the defense of your town. I am not surprised, but few praises could be spoken higher by my nephew."

"I did not feel courageous," Aldwen said with shame. "I am no warrior. When the Orcs first came, I was so filled with fear I could do nothing but block their attacks. It is admirable to me how men can be so brave in the face of such terror."

"I have known many brave men, but I know fewer who have courage. True courage is learning to resist and master your fear, not ignore its presence. Fear is the only thing that separates us from our enemy, Aldwen." He rose then, taking her by the hand. "Come, you should not stay in this chill for long."


	7. Many Partings

The days passed slowly in Edoras. The world seemed poised on the brink of a great precipitous; one from which there could be no turning back from. When he was not busy with his Uncle's affairs, Éomer found himself spending his time with Aldwen. The pair had taken to walking outside the gates of Edoras in the tall grasses. Wild irises were starting to bloom upon the Mark and the rivers were roaring at their banks with runoff. Only the growing darkness in the East would mar such days of their beauty. Presently, Aldwen had been in the stables with Maon since before the sun had broken over the horizon. The world was still and quiet during the early hours, a time which she had always cherished. Nestled deep in Moan's saddle blanket, Aldwen lay in the fresh straw next to her mare's side.

"Where will the world take us now, dear friend," Aldwen asked mostly to her herself. She knew she could not stay in Edoras. Théoden's offer to her to stay was kind, but this could not be her home. She wondered how others who had lost everything, just as she had, started over. The task seemed insurmountable to as she lay watching the sun come up. She heard rustling in the stable then; the town was beginning to wake up. She did not stir, too peaceful at that moment to be bothered.

"This is the second morning I have found you here," Éomer's voice sounded from around the corner. "Do you find your own accommodations that terrible?" He stood in front of her then. He was fully clad in his armor, holding a single saddlebag over his shoulder.

"I was meaning to tell you, My Lord. The feather bed and fine linens are simply deplorable," Aldwen joked as Éomer offered her a hand off the ground. "Truthfully, sleep eludes me as of late; and I missed Maon."

"Sleep can be a luxury to those with troubled minds. You have been through much, but I do not think it will linger," Éomer said. He looked down at Aldwen, whose hand was still in his. She indeed looked tired. Her green eyes had sunken slightly in the hollows of her face. Her skin had paled since he had met her. The freckles that dappled her face, which at their meeting were hard to notice, now stood boldly against the milkiness of her skin. Bringing a hand to her face, he traced his thumb along a faint pink scar Aldwen now bore on her jaw since the attack at Broadacres. It did nothing to take away from her beauty.

"What is your errand this morning," Aldwen asked. She closed the space between them and willingly let Éomer wrap a gentle hand around her waist. He sighed heavily, placing a small kiss atop her head. She smelled of sweet earth and woodsmoke.

"The King has business in Isengard." He began reluctantly. It had weighed heavily on Éomer's mind that their parting would be swift and inescapable. "I ride with him, and twenty men of his household. From Isengard is it likely we will travel through Harrowdale under the shadow of the White Mountains towards Dunharrow. There we will await word of our fate from Gondor."

"This where you intend our paths to split in two."

"For now. Though it is my wish that we should meet again and know more of each other." He paused, breathing deeply again the scent of her hair. "If the battle were to go ill, I fear greatly we shall not meet again under this Sun." A lengthy silence fell upon the stable.

"I would ride with you if Théoden would have me," Aldwen said, looking up at him.

"You will do no such thing," Éomer quickly took a step back. His eyes grew dark and a deep crease formed on his brow.

"And why is that, because I am a woman?" Aldwen felt her cheeks flush red. "Why should I be left behind when I am able to stand and fight just as you are. My cause is just as noble as yours, Éomer. My sex does not dictate what men think I can and cannot do!"

"You know that it not the reason. I should not have to discuss this further with you Aldwen, be reasonable," Éomer replied, turning his back on her.

"I am not the one being unreasonable! Long have I been cast aside with no regard to my abilities or desires. There is nothing left for me here, something which I know you are not blind to. I have the right to strive for my own sense of valor and honor. I refuse to be cast aside any longer, least of all by you."

Éomer dropped his saddle on Firefoot's back. He spun around, his hands clenched at his sides. "You speak of valor and honor, yet you have seen neither! Have the memories of what happened to you at Broadacres already escaped your memory? There is no honor in dying in a war that is not yours to fight. You would not stand as bravely as you think in the grip of battle. You would not have my men for your protection. This is beyond you, Aldwen, and I will not bear you as a burden through this battle. If you truly believe you have nothing left here, then go, and do as you wish. But I will not have you."

Aldwen seethed in silent rage.

"If you need more clarity in the matter, I suggest you seek it elsewhere. I will speak no more," Éomer concluded as he walked Firefoot out of his paddock.

"No, it seems quite clear to me. I suppose, in the end, a horsemaster's daughter would just be another notch in your bedpost," she spat back at him. "Forgive me, for being so foolish as to think I had your respect." She pushed gruffly past Éomer.

"Aldwen-"

"And do not just throw your saddle on your horse's back!" she yelled over her shoulder.

She did not look back as she stormed up the steps to the Golden Hall. Men were busy mustering and little heed as paid to her fury. Slamming the door of her chambers closed, she fumed with anger. Frustration clawed at her chest. She paced the room furiously, hastily throwing her belongings together. Outside, she heard the sounds of many men making ready their horses. Aldwen wondered what had possessed her to speak so openly to Éomer. She should have been wise enough to keep her desires to ride into battle a secret to him. She silently cursed herself for her carelessness. Sinking down in a chair next to the hearth, Aldwen bowing her head into her hands.

There was a light knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply Éowyn appeared in the doorway. "The King and his company have made ready to leave for Isengard, Aldwen. I am going down to the gates to bid them farewell. Do you wish to come with me?"

"I do not, My Lady," Aldwen said, lifting her head from her hands. Éowyn stood at her side then, putting a gentle hand on Aldwen's shoulder.

"Do not grieve, my friend. I have no doubt about our people's skill in battle. The men will return victorious."

Aldwen let out a mocking laugh. "I do not grieve at their parting, only that I have been forbidden to ride by their sides," Aldwen rose and continued to gather her belongings. "I naively expressed this wish to your brother, who mocked my frustration. He would not have me, and I have been a fool to think otherwise. I will burden your house no longer, tomorrow I shall take my leave of Edoras."

Éowyn sighed, "My brother can be quick to anger, but he does care for you, Aldwen. You are not alone in your frustration, for I know it well. I do hope that you would change your mind and stay with us, at least, a little while longer to recover your full strength."

"Thank you for your kindness, Éowyn. Please, go and bid your men farewell."

Outside the gates of Edoras, the wind whipped at the faces in the King's company. Their leaving was a quiet affair, for they needed haste to reach Isengard by the day's end. Éomer said little in parting, with the exception of bidding his sister farewell. He glanced back only once towards the Golden Hall. Seeing nothing but the banners of Rohan blowing in the wind, he turned Firefoot and spurred him into a steady lope.

Aldwen rose the next morning with the dawn and prepared for her departure. Éowyn had also risen early for her journey to Dunharrow to greet the men of the King's company before their final trek into battle. The two women found each other in the King's stable, where they saddled their horses in silence. The morning was grey and cheerless, the clouds looked laden with rain. A steady wind blew through the stables from the snow-capped mountains in the West.

"Where will you go," Éowyn finally asked.

"Along the West Road, for a time," Aldwen finished fastening her saddlebags and synching Maon's girth. "My Uncle had friends of his business in the lands North of Edoras. If I am lucky, I may find work with them." She had decided to don her mother's armor for her journey, if for no other reason than her saddlebags were already laden with provisions. She was not used to the weight, nor the biting cold that seemed to linger in the links of the hauberk. Éowyn had helped her earlier that morning, for she found the clasps cumbersome to fasten on her own.

"And if you are unlucky?"

Aldwen turned to her friend, wrapping her in a parting embrace. "I have not the time to think of such things," she said before climbing atop Maon's back.

"A gift for you," Éowyn said while thrusting a folded garment into Aldwen' hands. "Something to remember your time spent with us.

Aldwen smiled as she donned the green and gold cloak of the Rohirrim. It was a generous gift that she would cherish. She nudged Maon into an easy walk out of the stables. She was filling with uncertainty as she trotted out of the gates of the city. She stopped once on the West Road, turning Maon about towards Dunharrow. She paused only for a moment before she wheeled Maon back around on her original path, shaking her had at her moment of weakness. She was determined to set her own path. Where it would lead her, she did not entirely know. She gave Maon her head and started down the Great West Road as a light rain started to fall.


	8. Sutcrofts

Summer was well upon Eastern Rohan as an éored of men crossed the Entwade bound for Snowbourn. The banks of the river had already diminished from their spring torrents. The currents now formed gentle eddies before they flowed into irrigation canals to water the many fields of Sutcrofts. The once green fields which had been dotted with wildflowers were beginning to succumb to the brown tint of summer. High above the fields, the mountains of the East Wall loomed; their heights still crowned in snow.

It was not uncommon for Riders to pass through Sutcrofts since the ending of the war. Most times Aldwen could not help but try and peer under their helms for familiar faces. She briefly looked up from her saddle to watch the éored pass along the road. The stallion underneath her was still young, requiring her diligence. She let her attention lapse for a moment too long and she was quickly thrown upon her back into the dust.

"If only I could hold your attention like the men in those saddles," she heard Guthdor gruffly laugh behind her. Aldwen grimaced, still sprawled flat upon the earth.

Finishing her work for the day, Aldwen retired to her small dwelling. She picked some vegetables from the small garden she kept for her dinner that night. The summer had been difficult for growing in East Rohan, food had been scarce after the war. While her cooking pot bubbled warmly over a small fire, she was startled by a heavy knock. Muttering under her breath, she threw open the door. Before her stood a tall Rider, his light hair wild from days in the saddle. A devilish smirk was upon his face.

"Éothain?" Aldwen's brow was pinched quizzically together. "How-"

"I knew that was you," he interrupted; a smile beaming from ear to ear. Aldwen whisked him quickly inside, tripping over herself as she scurried to find a spare mug. Éothain waved his hand dismissively when she came up empty-handed; settling himself down in the only chair available. Aldwen shifted uncomfortably as Éothain looked around. The floor was dirt and the hearth small; Aldwen's only belongings were still kept in her saddlebags. She had carefully hidden away her mother's armor; only a sword lay next to her tidy bed. "It seems you are doing well," he said as his smile faded.

"You are a terrible liar," Aldwen hugged him. She was glad, for it had been long since she had seen a familiar face in East Rohan. "Tell me, what brings you to Sutcrofts."

"Snowbourn has asked for our aid. Many of their men have been lost in battle, King Éomer sent us with many wagons of grain and seed." Aldwen eyes flickered quickly up to meet his. "I saw a woman upon the back of a great dappled horse while on the road. From the talk in the alehouse, it was not difficult to guess that it was you. I hope you do not find my coming uncivil."

"The talk in the alehouse," Aldwen shook with laughter. "I cannot say that I have ever been the talk of the alehouse. Please, you must tell me what they say."

Éothain cleared his throat conspicuously. "When a woman rides up with a string of fine horses in tow and lives alone on another man's property, I suppose it raises some questions." From the blush that spread across his face, Aldwen could tell he was sparing her dignity. "Guthdor's wild woman, I believe, was the name used."

The evening passed easily. Aldwen was able to serve only a meager dinner to her guest. Éothain did not lack manners, he cleared his bowl and set a kettle on the fire for them. Before twilight, Aldwen walked him out to the road. She was delighted to see Éothain had taken such diligent care of a familiar Roan who was obediently waiting for him. Aldwen kissed Artair's velveteen nose.

"Éomer looks for you," he said before climbing into his saddle.

"I have not made my life here some great secret, Éothain," Aldwen sighed and cast her eyes to the ground. "I was glad to hear he returned from battle and was victorious; that is enough for me. I am under no disillusion of my place in this world."

"You think too little of yourself, Aldwen. He would be glad to see you again." He leaped easily into his saddle, turning north towards Snowbourn.

The King's éored departed two days hence from Sutcrofts. Aldwen looked up from the fence she was repairing to watch as they departed. She saw Éothain stand tall in his stirrups atop Artair's back, hand raised to the sky in parting. They rode swiftly through the day and into the evening, reluctant to spend any more nights sleeping upon the hard earth. Back in Edoras, the night had grown late when Éothain left the King's Stables. He had taken his time tending to Artair, hoping most of the men had drifted off to sleep. Éomer was waiting for him in the privacy of his chambers for a report.

"The Lord of Snowbourn is a stubborn man, he was unwilling to accept much outside aid. I can see why his people suffer." Éothain took a long draught from his ale. Night had deepened around them, fair and starlit. The gentle summer breeze drifted in from the West through an open window. The city had long fallen asleep as the men held counsel together. Éomer's attention had waned from doings of Lords and Ladies of his lands as the night dragged on.

"I supped with Aldwen."

Éomer looked up from his scattered papers, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. "In Snowbourn?"

"In Sutcrofts, just north of the crossing of the Entwade." Éothain laughed. "My eye caught when I saw a dark haired woman being thrown from the back of a stallion. I rode back after our business in Snowbourn was finished. There was little question who I would find."

Éomer smiled as he leaned back in his seat, taking up his own mug of ale. "Is she well?"

Éothain hesitated for a moment too long, Éomer shot him a dangerous look. "She has a roof over her head," he started reluctantly. "She has work, and some good horses to her name."

"Our parting was not pleasant. I spoke harshly to her, which she did not deserve. I have long desired to ride out and find her; to make amends. Time seems to always escape me." Éomer dragged a tired hand through his hair. "I miss the wind of the Mark upon my face, dear friend. My Uncle surely was a stronger man than I; for I cannot bear another piece of parchment brought to my attention."

"I would pity any man under Aldwen's ire," Éothain chuckled. "If you miss the wind, Sutcrofts is not but twelve leagues from here. I am sure the Lord of Snowbourn would bend more easily under the words of their King." Éothain drained the rest of his ale, excusing himself for the evening with a bow. "Aldwen did not make her whereabouts a secret either, My Lord. Nor her feelings."

 **AN: A thousand thousand thanks yous, dear readers, for your patience with this story. My work and school have been chaotic, to say the least, as of late. Thank you for your kind reviews, they keep me motivated to write late into the night. Stay tuned for more!**


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